


Counterweights

by misura



Category: The Malazan Book of the Fallen - Steven Erikson
Genre: Book: Memories of Ice, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: 'I would take your burden,'Itkovian had told Brukhalian.





	Counterweights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwordofRebecca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordofRebecca/gifts).



Had anyone asked Brukhalian what had brought Itkovian to his bed, where others had failed to so much as win a smile from the man, he would likely not have admitted what, to his mind, was the truth.

_Thoughtlessness._ It lacked ... romance, Brukhalian felt.

Granted, neither he nor Itkovian placed a particular value on romance, but even so, in some ways, Fener's Reve was an army like any other, and if there was one thing Brukhalian had learned, it was that soldiers did enjoy romance - or barring that, a good joke.

 

_'I would take your burden,'_ Itkovian had told Brukhalian. The hour had been as late as the day had been long, though Brukhalian had still felt their god's presence, leaving him less eager for sleep and more eager for some other activity requiring a bed.

Well, a bed and a willing partner. Brukhalian had not thought that Itkovian qualified as either. Young and sincere and serious; an unlikely choice, Brukhalian had thought, but suitable, of course.

One did not question one's god on such matters. Or ever, if one was that god's mortal sword.

_'At the moment, I have more need of someone to take my cock,'_ Brukhalian had said: crude words, meant to drive away a well-intended nuisance.

Itkovian had regarded him in silence for a handful of heartbeats, before he had said, _'Sir'_ as if Brukhalian's words had been anything but an insult, a lashing-out. A poor joke, at best.

Even so.

 

Even so, having Itkovian warm his bed was a convenience. As Fener's Mortal Sword, Brukhalian possessed a stamina most regular soldiers found hard to match. He had taught himself to make allowances, of course, to temper his expectations. To accept the limitations of others.

_'Am I to deduce from your continued returns that you find me desirable?'_ He had meant to sound teasing, to perhaps win that smile rumor claimed existed and had been witnessed by a rare few. _'Irresistable, even?'_

Brukhalian had considered and discarded the possibility of Fener's influence. It seemed unlikely in the extreme that their god would take such a personal interest in Brukhalian's private affairs. Mortal sword he might be: that did not mean there were no aspects to his life that remained his alone.

If one could learn nothing else from the example of Dassem Ultor, there was that, at least.

_'Sir,'_ Itkovian had replied. _'How could you doubt such a thing?'_

_With great ease,_ Brukhalian might have said. Fener little valued physical beauty, preferring the practicality of physical prowess instead, of a man capable of fighting and winning battles.

There were other answers he might have made, but Itkovian pressed him then, as if to prove the truth of his assertions, and Brukhalian gave way with grace as much as fondness and perhaps a touch of relief. The question had been asked and answered: what need for more?

 

They grew into their roles as lovers as they had grown into their positions in Fener's Reve.

Karnadas likely knew, though he said nothing, which alternately made Brukhalian feel grateful and annoyed. There were things which he might have liked to discuss with a friend, and Karnadas was the closest to such he had at his disposal, apart from Itkovian.

The rest of the Reve - well. Soldiers gossipped. How many of them believed was anyone's guess.

Brukhalian felt no shame, nor did he think Itkovian would, were anyone to bring up the topic of their relationship within his hearing. There were both grown men, doing as grown men might.

"Sir," Itkovian said.

There had been a strategy meeting, in its own way as exhausting as a day of battle might have been, and less honest, given the political powers involved. Fener's Reve did not concern itself with politics, true, but there was the matter of pay, of ensuring their coffers would not run dry. As any army, they required food, horses, armor.

Brukhalian would lead from the front, as was his right. Itkovian would direct their troops from a secure vantage point, where he would be afforded a full view of the field.

"Once the fighting starts, things will settle down," Brukhalian said. "We're relying on you to read the battle, to make best use of the reserves."

"Yes, sir. I will do my utmost."

Brukhalian bent his head, in part to hide his smile. "I would expect nothing less from you."

"You honor me with your trust."

"Tonight, I had rather honor you with something else," Brukhalian said.

Itkovian smiled.

Brukhalian realized that he had been wrong: there was a touch of romance to be found here, after all.


End file.
